


Five Times the Love

by BellaDrowned69 (SodiumChl0ride)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But my brain didn't want that apparently, Fluff and Angst, M/M, This was going to just be fluff, based off of a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:52:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10001960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SodiumChl0ride/pseuds/BellaDrowned69
Summary: Montparnasse would normally be perfectly content sitting there alone on the porch, but today he has a whole lot more on his mind. It's not his fault that he wants to write everything down in one of Jehan's old poetry journals.





	

Montparnasse was infatuated with his boyfriend-- his pretty ginger hair, (“It’s not ginger, Parnasse, it’s strawberry blonde,” Jehan had always reminded him), his honey eyes outlined with dark lashes that always touched his cheeks when he blinked, the imagery he could build up with just a simple line of poetry… He was still in disbelief that he’d managed to obtain such a beauty. Jehan was his favorite thing in the world, and nothing was going to change that. When Montparnasse was alone like this he couldn’t help but look back on all the moments they shared together, while enjoying a cigarette by himself, sitting on the edge of his porch banister. Tapping the end of his pen against the notebook he held, he let out a slow breath of smoke rings. Carefully he began writing in the slanted calligraphy that was his everyday writing:

'1- The first time I came to Jehan’s flat. The window sills were full of the plants which now lay wilted in their colorful clay pots. I’d followed him slowly, casting my eyes upon his furniture and scattered papers, until finally he just took my hand and dragged me into his bedroom. He smelled like the cherry blossom scented perfume that still sits on his bedside table. Carelessly he’d flung himself onto the bed as he let his grasp slip away from my wrist. His hair surrounded his head like a halo, bright and beautiful, just like he was. He looked utterly gorgeous, splayed onto his light yellow covers and pillows decorated with sunflowers. I remember the tinge at my stomach that I’d dismissed as the lack of meals for the past few days.  
2- He’d looked like an angel the first time I slept with him. No, not like that, that came after this. When he woke up he always intertwined his legs with mine, and while the hot touch of his skin bothered me then, I’ve found myself missing it in it’s absence. His long eyelashes always fluttered as he forced himself to wake up and open his eyes, but oh boy, how did his grin grow when he saw me. Lips curved upwards into the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen and my heart fluttered at the actions. This was getting to become a problem.  
3- Breath heavy, hair ruffled, sweat dripping down his skin-- He was always beautiful after our “expeditions” in the bedroom. This was perhaps how I had always liked him best. It was the half an hour after our first time that made me realize this. Jehan looked so pretty deflowered like this, chest trembling as he struggled to catch his breath, thin fingers tangling through his soaked hair, staring at me through his half-lidded eyes. Lazily he’d curled up against me despite his current nudeness and I’d held him close enough to smell whatever perfume still lingered on his skin.  
4- I’d almost said it. Those three, soft words that always haunted my mind like no other. We were sitting on this very banister, the steam from his tea drifting up through the wind, his free hand pressing into my inner thigh. His eyes had shimmered with delight as he gazed up at the stars and his lips moved to recite gentle poetry that I wish I’d paid more attention to. Every word that left his mouth proved itself flawless, whether it be the words coming originally from another, or words that came to his mind just then. What I do remember perfectly is how he squeezed my thigh and stole those special words from me before I could open my mouth to speak: “I love you.”  
He’d retreated back through the glass doors quick enough that I feel bad for not stopping him and repeating them back to him.  
5- Crimson flowers had blossomed on his chest, the blood staining the fabric of his favorite cardigan. He couldn’t breathe, and I was holding him too close, crying too hard. I admired him like this, brave and much too ready to fight for the well being of France, refusing to break under the pressure. But a gunshot… Even I couldn’t hold back a sob. He was sitting there, so peaceful, and bleeding out quicker than I care to admit. “I love you,” he’d choked out with his last breath, and shit, it hurt so much.  
“I love you, too.”  
And then his eyes were fluttering shut, and even pressing my ear up against his chest, I heard only silence where the steady beating of his heart should have echoed. My beloved, gorgeous, perfect Jehan was gone; Wiped out of this world forever.'


End file.
